


Rapprochement

by UndeadRelations



Category: Pocahontas (1995)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Male Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeadRelations/pseuds/UndeadRelations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas leaves again for the New World after his unsatisfied return to England where he's determined to repay a debt.<br/>Kocoum/Thomas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regret

**Author's Note:**

> This story has little historical accuracy and is based on fictional events following the movie Pocahontas.

  


Regret

 

Thomas and the crew of the Virginia Company set sail from the New World to return to England with John Smith's health at its mercy. During the long voyage across the Atlantic Thomas was tasked with a daily routine aboard the ship which left more time to think than he liked to have. Though he knew it was to save John Smith's life, Thomas had difficulty thinking about much other than the fact that he'd killed a man. This fact plagued him and his heart painfully sunk each time he thought of that moment that he pulled the trigger of his gun and the Indian had fallen dead upon impact. Certainly the taunting words of Governor Ratcliffe had gotten to him beforehand, the statement that he was not a man if he couldn't shoot a gun properly, and Thomas wondered if that had been a part of what drove him to kill. The fact that he may have saved John's life in that moment hardly registered anymore.

A naturally virtuous soul, even after Thomas returned to his home and the lifestyle he missed after leaving, memories of the New World both dazzled and haunted his dreams. Thomas would awaken in a cold sweat after the loud crack of gunfire within his mind and the image of a falling lifeless body splashed into the shallow water. He later learned the Indian's name was Kocoum during his brief encounters with the native tribe before they had to set sail. The man's face was solid in Thomas' mind, though with each night his features seemed to fade as if Kocoum's memory began to fade from the world. Kocoum had been a human being, and equal to Thomas; if only he hadn't aimed for the warrior's heart he might have lived. Thomas hoped he was never confronted with the opportunity to kill again and vowed to avoid the use of firearms altogether.

For months Thomas went about his old lifestyle, figuring that perhaps his negative memories would fade with time and he could move on. But then Thomas thought of his debt to the native tribe for having taken the life of one of their own, and he could not forget. It seemed as though the regret would eat away at him as an underlying depression plagued him. His family and coworkers took notice of it, occasionally expressing concern but Thomas would push them away, assuring them he was fine. Though some men might consider him impressive for having killed a savage, Thomas didn't want his family to know of what had happened and his inability to tell them only made the guilt heavier to carry.

That native tribe was still under the impression that John Smith had been the one to kill Kocoum and this too bothered Thomas. He should have had the strength to tell the truth, but even still he feared that if he had they might have gone to war. But John Smith wouldn't have been shot either, would he? It was all just so many uncertainties that it drove Thomas a bit mad at times. Then he thought that perhaps he could return to the New World and repay his debts to the natives. But that was unreasonable, there was nothing out there for him. His family and work were here, he belonged in England.

As he would walk the cold cobblestone roads of England beneath gray, hazy skies, Thomas found himself longing for that lush green. He had arranged a few days escape to the countryside and though its grassy fields were beautiful, every bit of land seemed claimed by humanity. The New World had not, however. It's pristine landscapes were void of houses or roads, and only the native tribes scattered about here and there populated its lands. The vast amount of uncharted, beautiful forests and mountains and fields and rivers filled him with a sense of warmth. That kind of immersion into the grandeur of nature had made Thomas feel like a part of something greater.

His unhappiness seemed to escalate until he'd made himself bedridden for a week from sickness. Marina had tended to his bedside, a kind young woman whose father had arranged for Thomas to marry her. But for the time being Thomas simply could not agree to the conditions, though he was sure it would happen eventually. He asked for more time with so much on his mind, and the family agreed, and Marina and Thomas would go on small dates or meet each other after work for walks. Or so it had been before Thomas' trip to the New World. Everyone could tell something had changed him but just as Thomas thought this would wear away with time after he re-acclimated, so did they.

As Thomas lay in bed on his final day of that week of sickness, he dreamed of the New World and all its splendor. Rather than the familiar gunfire and him waking in fright, there was a subtle melody that seemed to dance beneath the landscape. It seemed to flow as the wind, though more colorful than Thomas knew wind to be. It weaved through the trees of the forest, across the glittering surface of a river and finally rested upon twin paw prints of a bear in searing red. But the red was not as intense as it perhaps should have been, rather it was soothing and Thomas felt a certain warmth as he slowly awakened. He felt as if those paw prints were familiar but couldn't pinpoint them and the memory faded from Thomas.

His dark brown eyes slid open to peer out the small window of his room into the blue of the sky. No matter the distance the sky was always present, and for a moment he felt this was the sky he had seen so many times above the New World. A new enthusiasm rose within him of which Thomas had not known in a very long time.

That day Thomas signed up for the next ship to set sail for the New World which would depart within the month. He announced this happily to his family but Thomas did not receive the same cheery expression he wore. However, Thomas did not falter and felt as if for the first time in a long time he'd made a decision that mattered.

Though his guilt still gnawed at him, Thomas was reconciled by the idea that he could finally return and pay his debt to the tribe he'd abandoned. Even the months of nothing but the blue surface of the Atlantic to look at did not discourage him. During that month, Thomas sobered a little and the reality of the seriousness of his expedition settled within him. He would make amends for killing Kocoum because until he did Thomas' life was not his own.

As Thomas ascended the ramp onto the ship which would return him to the New World, Marina rushed to him, hugging him tightly. He reassured her he would return and when he did they could be married as he brushed blond hair behind her pale ear. Marina smiled at him and they hugged again before Thomas kissed her on the cheek. He bid her farewell one last time as Marina cried.

Thomas waved from the ship and felt he was saying goodbye not only to his family and England, but to a past of which he would not look back upon again.

>>>\---------|>

As Thomas descended the ramp of the Godspeed, he paused to breathe in the salty wind which swept across the beach. Before him towered the forest beyond an expanse of white sand. The air warm and the sky clouded, Thomas helped his crew-mates unpack the ship. After all, soon he would see nothing more of these men despite the role that Thomas was designated to play in the settlement.

Before bed like every night on his journey he unfolded a warn piece of paper he kept on him at all times. It was the notes John had taken of the Powhatan tribe's language, and Thomas read each word with a solid familiarty. He knew little to nothing of sentence structure but that was something he could piece together later. He returned the paper to his chest pocket before letting his tired eyes cloes. Thomas slept within the walls of Jamestown for that single night to acclimate to being land bound once again and to bid one last farewell to the lifestyle he'd always known.

Upon waking early in the morning before daybreak, Thomas snuck from the settlement, bidding it farewell as he entered the thicket of woods. Though it had been a long time since he'd traveled to where the native tribe was set up, Thomas tread with confidence, his compass in hand.

Hours passed as the sun rose in the sky and Thomas grew concerned he may be headed in the wrong direction. Removing his heavy pack of supplies and setting it on the ground, Thomas sat down for lunch and to give his suffering feet a break. This trek was a bit exhausting after living in the restricted confines of a ship with little room to move around for so long.

Growing discouraged, Thomas sighed as a sudden wind rushed past him. A curious sensation welled within his chest and Thomas stood, staring off into the direction the wind had gone. He put his bag back on as a strange tune he was sure he hadn't heard before came to mind. Walking forward, there was a whistling in the distance, but not that of the wind, rather a human call to another. Thomas picked up his pace as ahead he could see where the edge of the forest opened into a clearing.

As he stepped into the direct sunlight, Thomas inhaled as he recognized the familiar forms of wigwams and hide clad people going about their day. He approached, apprehensive and excited, and as he grew close many turned to him and grew silent. Thomas slowed then, growing shyly concerned they may not remember him after all and may seem as though he was intruding. Thomas came to a stop as a woman ran into one wigwam and from which the familiar, elderly Chief Powhatan emerged.

He smiled at Thomas as though he'd been expecting him, sending a strange sensation through the light-skinned man. Thomas approached Chief Powhatan carefully so as not to appear disrespectful.

“Come, we have much to discuss,” the Chief waved toward his wigwam and Thomas nodded wordlessly, following the man's invitation graciously. They sat down on cushions on the floor which surrounded an unlit fire pit before Chief Powhatan asked, “What is it you have come for, Thomas?” Bowing his head slightly to convey respect, Thomas hesitated.

“I would like to repay my debt for taking the life of your kin,” Thomas said quickly. At first he had difficulty meeting the Chief's eyes but forced himself to do so anyway. Chief Powhatan's eyes grew heavy with this statement and he seemed as though he had welcomed in foreboding news.

“Who is it you speak of,” Chief Powhatan demanded with subtle intensity.

“His name was Kocoum,” Thomas admitted sadly. “I shot him a little over a year ago, while trying to protect John Smith.”

“Ah, then I think that is something you should take up with him,” Chief Powhatan stated, his eyes alight.

“What do you mean?” Thomas asked anxiously, startled by the twinkle in the Chief's eyes. Surely he didn't mean to go visit Kocoum's grave?

“I will take you to him,” Chief Powhatan answered as he stood.

“Thank you,” Thomas responded quickly, following the Chief from the wigwam.

They crossed through the settlement, finally coming upon a low built wigwam with symbols painted on its exterior. As they entered and Thomas' eyes adjusted, he was met with quite a shock. There sat the man he'd shot, Kocoum alive as he bowed over some kind of workout instrument which he held in his hand.

“Kocoum,” Thomas breathed. He had been nearly silent yet black eyes turned to observe him. There were somber, filled with a lack of life as if Kocoum had not known any of the beauty that life could offer. He returned his attention to kneading the strange toy in his left hand and disregarded the entrance of Chief Powhatan and the light-skinned stranger.

A rush went through Thomas and he felt the need to tell Kocoum that he was the one who shot him, not John Smith. But that lifeless glare had stopped Thomas dead in his tracks and it took him a moment before he realized Chief Powhatan had exited the wigwam. For another moment Thomas stared at Kocoum's broad back before he turned and followed the Chief back out into the sunlight. He ran for a moment to catch up with the elder wise man.

“Kocoum's alive!” Thomas blurted excitedly with more enthusiasm than he intended.

“He is but he has suffered greatly,” Chief Powhatan admitted as Thomas' smile faded at this. For a moment he thought that perhaps there was never a debt to repay in the first place but Thomas scolded himself for having such a thought after hearing the Chief's words.

“What happened?” Thomas asked timidly.

“Though Kocoum was presumed dead, we found he still had a little bit of life in him. He lost a lot of blood and we were not sure he would recover. Because of where the bullet entered him, we could not remove it from Kocoum without forcing him to lose more blood and so it remains,” Chief Powhatan spoke with slow steps as he looked off into the sky. “This causes Kocoum much pain when he tries to use his arm. He can no longer be the warrior he once was. Do you know what that means for him?”

“He can't fight anymore,” Thomas repeated.

“Fighting was all that Kocoum ever knew,” Chief Powhatan explained. “Though he is a good natured man, Kocoum was trained since he was young to become a warrior. He knows nothing else. Though he is capable of so much, he has lost the desire to live along with what he knew to be his purpose.”

“Oh,” was all Thomas managed then.

“You said you wanted to repay your debt. Now that you realize Kocoum is alive will you try and make up for the damaged man that remains?” Chief Powhatan asked as he looked down upon the young man at his side.

“Yes,” Thomas breathed before he could even think. He had set his mind to this, even if Kocoum turned out to be alive, Thomas could still try his best to make it up to the man he shot. “I mean, I would like to try my best,” Thomas restated.

“Then you are welcome here,” Chief Powhatan said with a gentle smile of reassurance. Though he wasn't sure there was anything a stranger like Thomas could accomplish all of his own efforts had produced no improvement of Kocoum's injured pride and subsequent depression.

“Thank you, sir,” Thomas responded with relief.

Thomas was shown to a small wigwam in which he would stay for a little while to see if he would acclimate to living with the tribe or disband to return to Jamestown. Unpacking his belongings, Thomas reported to Chief Powhatan to see what tasks he might be able to take on to compensate for the burden of living he could cost the tribe.


	2. Home Away From Home

Thomas was assigned a job to work daily so that he could become a valuable member of the tribe. For the time being Thomas was taught to fish in the canoes on the river and he found learning the new skill to be enjoyable. In the evenings, however, Thomas hesitated with his intentions to help Kocoum. Once again he asked the Chief for guidance.

“For now Kocoum has been gathering jugs of water with his good arm at the river. Though I requested he not do such a thing, he seems to be determined to slowly build his dexterity once again. Be cautious approaching him,” the Chief recommended and Thomas nodded with determination.

And so before the sun rose mid-sky the following day, Thomas got up and waited by the river until Kocoum arrived. Sure enough, as if on schedule, the lone man emerged from his wigwam and approached the nearest portion of the river with two jugs hauled over his right shoulder. He appeared to ignore Thomas entirely as he filled one jug, then the second. As Kocoum tried to lift one jug with his left arm he winced and inadvertently lurched forward. The jug landed hard on the ground but did not crack, and Thomas hurried to his side.

“Let me help with that,” Thomas said as he reached for the jug Kocoum had just dropped. He hesitated when a deathly glare fell upon him and Kocoum's disdain frightened Thomas. But he persisted; there was no use exposing his fear if he was going to live up to his promise to repay his debt to the man. Thomas could only just lift the heavy jug and tried not to make it obvious how difficult it was for him. Instead he ignored Kocoum's glare and encouraged, “Come on then.”

Grunting at him, Kocoum lifted the other jug easily with his good arm and held it on his shoulder. He didn't know who this man thought he was but Kocoum had lost the energy to fight some time ago and so he decided ignoring him was best. The light-skinned man with his strange hair color seemed to waddle in front of him with the effort of carrying the jug in both arms. Kocoum thought it a strange sight and couldn't help but eye the slight man in bewilderment.

When Thomas entered the wigwam he awaited Kocoum's lead and set down the jug next to his. He hoped that Kocoum might say something to him for his help but instead the native sat on the floor with his back to Thomas as if he wasn't there. This was going to be harder than Thomas anticipated and he left the wigwam without a word.

Each day Thomas met Kocoum by the river to help carry one of the jugs to the storage dwelling. Though he was still mostly ignored, Thomas felt that his efforts might be paying off since he had not seen Kocoum try and lift a jug with his bad arm again. In truth Kocoum did this so as not to expose his vulnerability in front of someone again, but of course he would never say such a thing. Nor did Kocoum thank Thomas.

On one particular day, Thomas was especially tired from a long morning of fishing as he tried to lift the full water jug for transport. He faltered and stumbled, falling hard into Kocoum who had stepped closer to catch the man. Thomas, thoroughly embarrassed, glanced briefly into Kocoum's stern face before diverting his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said quietly as the hand which had fallen on his shoulder to steady him left. Kocoum turned for the storage wigwam and Thomas' eyes followed him. Despite his being so lame, a glimmer of hope arose within Thomas. He'd finally managed to get some sort of response out of Kocoum, some acknowledgment of his existence and that was worth the brief moment of clumsy shame to Thomas.

Thomas continued to meet Kocoum by the river and even took their previous encounter as permission to be more helpful. He learned from Chief Powhatan that Kocoum was never at the tribe's gathered dinners because he always ate alone in his wigwam. He asked for permission to be absent from the group gathering and was met by a smile from the Chief. Taking up his portion of food plus an extra, Thomas headed for Kocoum's wigwam. 

“Kocoum,” Thomas said to announce his entrance. He was met with a glance then Kocoum turned away from him with disinterest. His attention was only taken when a bowl of fish stew was placed beside him since he usually waited for the rest of the tribe to eat before he went for dinner. Glancing in Thomas' direction as the man boldly sat on a cushion on the floor Kocoum scowled but picked up the bowl to eat regardless. Trying to act natural, whatever that might entail, Thomas acted as though this was something they did daily. Perhaps it would become a daily occurrence. Though Kocoum seemed displeased with Thomas' invasion upon his existence, he never openly protested or pushed the white man away. It was this reason that Thomas learned to be more bold, because despite what he did it seemed as though Kocoum would tolerate his presence. He decided to try and make conversation out of the awkward silence.

“We had a good haul today, caught some big fish,” Thomas said as he glanced up at Kocoum who ate quietly. “How do you like the soup?”

Kocoum didn't even look up, but he acknowledged Thomas with the tiniest nod of his head and that was enough for the auburn haired man. Smiling to himself since Kocoum wouldn't see anyway, the rest of the evening went on in near silence. As Kocoum finished, Thomas took his bowl and left the man to his solitude once again.

Just as meeting Kocoum at the river became a daily routine, so too did eating dinner with the native. Thomas felt as though he was at least making progress and slowly as the days past Kocoum began to acknowledge his presence a little more at a time. Thomas was determined to adequately make himself present in Kocoum's uneventful life.

As if to exemplify his reluctance to social interaction, Kocoum even avoided the pow wows in which the tribe gathered biweekly. No one in the tribe missed these, no one except Kocoum anyway. Just as the event began, however, Thomas crept into the man's wigwam to tell him of the event.

“Would you join me?” Thomas asked as he approached Kocoum, daring to lay a hand on the man's unwounded shoulder. He was rewarded as the native's black eyes met his own and those knit brows told Thomas to politely go away. At least he managed to get that level of response from the copper-skinned man.

Thomas sighed as his eyes translated his disappointment and he turned to leave the wigwam. Sitting cross-legged on the ground outside the circle of tribal observers, Thomas watched as a small troupe of men dressed in fancy costumes danced about, enacting the ferocity of battle.

Someone came up behind him and sat down suddenly, startling Thomas and as he looked up he was astonished to find Kocoum sitting at his side. Thomas' lips parted in awe, and though Kocoum only stared forward with a stern expression, he sat so curiously close to Thomas that their arms touched.

Again Thomas found himself smiling as he turned to watch the group dance again.

>>>\---------|>

Thomas tried to help Kocoum in whatever way he could since he joined the tribe. He even managed to assist the man in his daily routine and as Thomas helped Kocoum settle down for the evening, there was a melancholic air about the wigwam. Rain would be coming soon, the air was damp, and this only sought to make Kocoum's shoulder more susceptible to discomfort.

“Curse John Smith,” Kocoum breathed quietly as he clutched his shoulder in agony, his face grimacing.

“John Smith?” Thomas asks as he reached out tentatively to help steady Kocoum. He never saw Thomas in that fit of rage when he attacked John Smith and so his memory of the whole event was skewed, based only upon what he'd been told.

“Were it not for him I would not have suffered such a wound,” Kocoum expressed. The resentment that welled within him overwhelmed his naturally stoic composure. He wanted to say more, that Pocahontas would not have gone to Europe for that blond man either, but withheld this. Though he loved Pocahontas as if she were his family and felt an overwhelming need to watch over her, Kocoum had come to terms that they would not be joined.

“But John Smith didn't shoot you,” Thomas responded coyly withdrawing his hands. Kocoum looked up at him with malcontent as if demanding explanation for saying such a thing. He was a little confused, it was only John, Pocahontas and Kocoum that day, no one else was around.

“If not John Smith then who?” Kocoum asked solidly, his black eyes boring into brown ones.

“I-I shot you,” Thomas admitted in nearly a whisper. He swallowed, throat dry as he diverted his eyes and repeated, “John Smith didn't shot you, I did.”

And something within Kocoum clicked; this stranger to him, a white man no less, kept insisting on waiting on him hand and foot. He felt as if such a fact being revealed should have deeply angered him, but Kocoum was at a loss for a reaction. Kocoum had lost his will to maintain rage some time ago when he was relieved of the ability to fight for his people and put that emotion to use. His anger subsided into a scowl while Thomas nervously awaited a response. Kocoum removed his shirt then, handing it to Thomas who accepted it while taking notice of the scar on the man's chest. As the light skinned man deposited the shirt to the side, Kocoum took notice of Thomas' intense stare and the expression of remorse which crossed his face.

“Your hand,” Kocoum instructed, his expression stern, hardly revealing what he might be thinking. Thomas complied quickly, his hand moving to Kocoum's who took it in his own. Kocoum drew Thomas near, pressing pale fingertips to the keyloid scar on his chest where the bullet had gone into him and some of which had in fact never left. Thomas inhaled unsteadily, wincing with the fact that it was his bullet that had torn this hole in Kocoum's smooth chest and the agony that it must have caused. Yet there was also an ecstatic thrill that went through Thomas as he touched Kocoum, though that was mostly overwhelmed by the fear of a violent out-lash in that moment. “For a long time I was determined to seek revenge upon the man who rendered my arm useless, taken my duty to my people from me, and nearly my life,” Kocoum continued as a subtle remorse only Thomas could detect was present in the flat tone. Thomas, nervous upon hearing this from Kocoum desperately wanted to withdraw his hand which was still pressed to his copper chest, but he couldn't work up the courage to defy the man who began to speak again. “But now that he stands before me that desire has fallen,” Kocoum added and Thomas' tension gradually drained, even if his heart did still pound his pulse throughout his body.

Thomas felt as if his limbs were too flimsy to support him and an intense ache engulfed his heart. Thomas was confused by the emotions which gripped him. He wanted to fall to his knees, to plead for Kocoum's forgiveness, or perhaps to take the man in his arms to assure him it would all be alright. This wasn't quite the reaction Thomas had planned for. He had expected an out lash and even wanted physical punishment in that moment; he deserved it. Thomas felt like Kocoum wasn't expressing the anger he must hold inside of him but Thomas didn't know how to draw that out of him. Instead Thomas stood there somewhat awkwardly, uncertain which of the many reactions that he thought of would be appropriate in the situation before him. Finally Thomas decided he wanted to stand strong before Kocoum, to be his equal and earn the incredible man's respect. Withdrawing his breath to gather himself, Thomas knelt down on one knee as he raised a fist to his chest and lowered his head respectfully.

“Kocoum, as the man who shot you I am at your disposal,” Thomas began, trying his best to keep his voice from quivering. “Please allow me to repay my debt and be at your service.” He remained in that stance for a moment as he awaited some kind of response from Kocoum. Doubt welled within Thomas but he dare not raise his head as if it would revoke the words he'd wanted to tell Kocoum since he first saw the man standing alive before him.

Finally a strong hand gripped his shoulder and Thomas took it as an acceptance of his proposal, slowly raising his head to meet Kocoum's eyes. But the native's eyes were set off to the side, avoiding Thomas' before he responded.

“Come, help me to bed,” Kocoum said flatly. He disliked the idea of a man stooping to the level of tending to another man greatly, or perhaps he thought so to prevent himself from considering the alluring idea fully. For the moment Kocoum could think of no other way to react than to accept Thomas' proposition for the moment. He was tired and would figure out the details of this situation upon the rise of tomorrow's sun. Briefly Thomas assisted Kocoum to bed who hardly expressed the pain he felt in his shoulder on his face. He could tell however, after having spent some days with Kocoum, by the way the man drew his arm stiff, restricting its movements lest the shards of metal within become agitated.

Thomas quietly left Kocoum's wigwam, satisfied that the truth had finally come out of him as exhaustion from a long day aged his features. However, there was a sense of unrest in Thomas that he couldn't pinpoint. Perhaps he didn't feel like he was being properly punished for the crime he'd committed against such a noble man as Kocoum. He would work off that debt, Thomas told himself, with time and Kocoum's patience.

As Kocoum laid on his bed he stared into the night sky which shone through the hatch Thomas had helped him to pull back in the roof of his wigwam. He contemplated the attention he was being given, and though Kocoum thought it only exploited his new found disability the idea of Thomas being around him wasn't as troublesome as he expected. Kocoum had found himself lonely for a long time, since he was a child and had grown so serious upon the death of his father. He took to his studies and learned to fight to inherit the life of a warrior and never sought social relationships. At the age when he should take a wife and produce offspring, Kocoum felt instead that he was unfit for the lovely women of his tribe. He had turned down various marriage proposals and couldn't bear the idea of having a child who would have to grow up with an inadequate father. Kocoum had proposed to become the husband of Chief Powhatan’s daughter which would have made him the next in line to lead his tribe and his pride had won him over. Instead Pocahontas had turned him down and later set sail for England while Kocoum lost his ability to fight altogether.

He felt broken, and while he refused to express this concern or bother the others of his tribe with complaints, Kocoum felt he had lost his purpose. Yet here was the man who had shot him, rendered him unable to rise from his sick bed for weeks, and Thomas had somehow managed to qualm all of Kocoum's pent up anger in a single moment. Thomas was strangely devoted to him and Kocoum took comfort in this, though he wouldn't admit it directly to himself. Rather than rationalizing his decision to keep Thomas around, Kocoum pushed his mind to the next day's activities to subconsciously avoid an eventual conclusion that keeping the white man around was pointless.

The image of Thomas stumbling with the jugs of water from the river as he nervously helped Kocoum crossed his mind then. If Kocoum ever allowed himself to smile, he would have in that moment. Thomas' anxious smile as Kocoum caught the jug and subsequently the smaller white man with his good arm lit up the dark-skinned man's mind. Thomas' tenancy to become clumsy in Kocoum's presence was somehow endearing and for the first time in a long time Kocoum fell asleep to happy thoughts.

>>>\---------|>

For the following few days Kocoum and Thomas went about their well rehearsed routine with the addition of romantic nuances. Being so familiar with Kocoum's serious persona, Thomas was a little surprised and pleased by the subtle brush of a hand or that the copper skinned man would sit so close to him their arms would touch during tribal gatherings. Thomas was made a bed in Kocoum's large wigwam so that the man's assistance in daily routines was less cumbersome. While both contemplated sharing a bed neither spoke of it and they remained with separate sleeping arrangements, taking their time with the gradual advancement of intimacy.

Though they kept busy Thomas found each day somewhat monotonous yet he remained content. Surrounded by the wise people of the tribe he grew more in tune with the nature around him and found he didn't miss the city back in England where he'd grown up as much as he anticipated. Rather than always seeking some new excitement, Thomas became satisfied with living a peaceful life as he approached his mid twenties. Perhaps it was the maturity of Kocoum who he spent a considerable amount of time with that sobered him. Still Thomas would find moments when Kocoum said surprising, quirky things that made him laugh. Thomas realized he was also relieved to have the guilt of shooting the man off of his chest and far behind him.

As the days passed the midday sun would steadily climb higher overhead, warming the air and water as the clothes which the tribe wore became less concealing. Bathing became more frequent as well and various members of the tribe would indulge in the relaxing river throughout the day. Thomas stepped from the canoe in which he'd been fishing onto dry land and happen to catch the back of Kocoum's back body in the distance as he wandered off into the woods from the native campground. Thomas ran to drop the items off he'd been carrying so he could follow Kocoum who seemed to disappear like that once each week or so. Thomas was careful to keep his distance, noting the direction they were walking in in case he got himself lost.

After about an hour of walking, Thomas was relieved when Kocoum finally seemed to sit down by the riverside to take a break. He was startled when there was the crack of a tree branch in the distance and Thomas could see a large bear approaching the sitting native. Thomas' heartbeat picked up and he debated whether he should expose his hiding spot to warn Kocoum who didn't seem to notice the approaching beast. Then it roared and Thomas was relieved when Kocoum got quickly to his feet but he did not run. Again the bear roared at Kocoum and Thomas watched through wide, worried eyes as the native let loose a wild battle cry. Thomas was frozen in place.

Approaching one another, the bear and Kocoum sized the other up, exchanging great wild cries. With Kocoum at arms reach, the bear stood on its back legs, its arms stretched. Kocoum tackled the bear who did not budge and instead the beast closed its arms around him.

Then Kocoum let out a strange sound Thomas was sure was something other than a laugh. But then he made the same noise again and sure enough, Kocoum was laughing in the arms of the bear. They released one another and the bear lowered itself to stand on all fours as Kocoum patted its head. The bear tilted it's head slightly to the side, appreciating her friend's attention before Kocoum said something soft which Thomas could not hear.

Turning, the bear and Kocoum began to walk beside one another before the native finally hitched a ride on her back. Thomas had difficulty keeping up as the bear ran, Kocoum making wild battle cries which echoed through the trees as if he were going to war again. When he finally caught up to them, Thomas watched the two enter the river, Kocoum jumping from rock to rock as if they were familiar stepping stones.

Still somewhat bewildered, Thomas smiled as Kocoum laughed, splashing the bear as the furry creature grunted at him in return. They began to fish with their bare paws. Thomas, feeling that Kocoum was safe and he was being rudely nosey, finally turned back for the village.

Though Thomas wanted to ask Chief Powatan if perhaps he knew who the bear was, he refrained. They were obviously friends and for such a wild animal to have such a familiarity it must have known Kocoum since it was young. Thomas smiled to himself, it seemed suitable for Kocoum's only friend to be a great beast of this new world. The red bear paws Kocoum had always worn to battle seemed to suddenly make sense to Thomas.

But what was most important was that Thomas knew Kocoum could feel some kind of glee. He ached for a moment in jealousy; Thomas wanting Kocoum to act so playfully and to expose his feelings freely to him as well. Balling a fist Thomas vowed to tame that feral creature within his native friend. He wanted to make Kocoum his.

Then Thomas scolded himself, how could he want something that was surely out of his reach? It would only bring him disappointment. Besides, their current friendship was enough wasn't it? Though Thomas longed for potentially more, he pushed that desire away because it lead him to think of the crime of homosexuality back at home.

Thomas winced and resigned himself to thinking instead about the daily chores he still needed to accomplish.


	3. Diplomacy

Though it was an unspoken truth, Thomas' devotion to Kocoum was causing the man to recover rapidly and the whole tribe seemed to silently notice. They warmed up to Thomas, recognizing the unexpectedly kind-hearted nature of the white man.

When Kocoum arose from his depression and became well Chief Powhatan proposed that he take on a new role in the tribe. Kocoum was pleased when Chief Powhatan entrusted him with the task of meeting other tribes they traded with to maintain relations. It was a noble task of which Kocoum could be proud, and that was the first day Thomas had seen a true smile on the man's face. He was finally being gifted a purpose again.

Though he had been brought up a warrior, Kocoum was to become a diplomat of sorts as he visited neighboring tribes to bring news or maintain the peace between them. Chief Powhatan had made the decision after watching the fast improvements in Kocoum's recovery after the arrival of Thomas. Though he never expressed this openly to the two, the Chief was relieved that Kocoum would not waste away after being shot after all and he heartily accepted Thomas' uncanny ability to grow close to the wounded warrior.

Now he had Thomas by his side and was realizing how cumbersome the Englishman could be. He was no good at carrying much weight for long distances, and when Thomas looked nearly collapsed with the bag across his shoulders Kocoum wordlessly took it from him with little hesitation. Thomas was ashamed and felt somewhat useless as he watched Kocoum's broad back laden with large sacks of maize and sleeping supplies. It was a three day walk to the neighboring village and Thomas barely endured 6 hours of labor before his body couldn't take it anymore.

But despite his disapproval of Thomas' usefulness, Kocoum avoided to the best of his ability admitting how nice it was to have the man for company on the journey. They didn't speak much; Thomas would occasionally ask Kocoum what certain birds or plants were called as they journeyed through the woods.

It came close to the time to settle for the evening as Thomas and Kocoum came upon a wigwam that had been built for this exact purpose. It was a post alongside the river they followed to stay on track, and Thomas gathered wood while Kocoum built a fire.

They went to sleep.

“Kocoum,” Thomas called out into the temperate night air. “Kocoum, it hurts,” he continued and Kocoum grew confused as to where the voice came from. But as he awoke with a louder cry from Thomas, Kocoum realized he'd been asleep.

“Thomas,” Kocoum called with concern through the dim light of the dying fire. Oddly, Thomas writhed on top of his bedding as he sobbed and Kocoum stood up to observe him. As he grew closer, he realized that Thomas was itching vigorously, and he peeled back the blanket beneath which the Caucasian man lay under.

At first he didn't see anything, didn't understand Thomas' suffering, not until he leaned closer and Kocoum could see the rash of reddening skin. It spread across the expanse of those normally pallid legs, up Thomas' sides and across his belly where he currently itched.

“Thomas!” Kocoum said loudly, gripping those vigorously scratching hands by the wrists and yanking them apart. Thomas' eyes opened then and he peered at Kocoum with teary misery in his eyes.

“Let go,” Thomas struggled, trying to free his hands so he could sooth his itchy, searing skin.

“No, you must stop scratching,” Kocoum ordered.

“I can't,” Thomas said uncomfortably as he rubbed his legs together for emphasis, his whole body writhing in the effort.

“If you don't stop it will keep spreading,” Kocoum informed. “Everywhere you touch it spreads.” Kocoum had seen this before, but never so severely. Perhaps he should have been more considerate to Thomas' susceptibility to the plants in the wood. After all, he was from a different world altogether and wouldn't share all of Kocoum's immunity.

“Please,” Thomas begged, as he still fought Kocoum's grip.

“Come here,” Kocoum instructed and Thomas attempted to sit up as the natives took him in his arms. Carrying Thomas from the wigwam, Kocoum submerged them in the river, just enough to cover Thomas' body laying down. Sighing graciously, Thomas' itching subsided somewhat by the soothing cool water. “I will be back quickly,” Kocoum said, ensuring that Thomas had stopped scratching before he left. Grateful for his familiarity with the plants in the proximity to his campground, it didn't take long for Kocoum to find the things he needed. He crushed them quickly, adding a little water from the river to create a paste.

By the time he return to Thomas the man was scratching again, and Kocoum quickly snatched his hands away. Looking at him with discomfort, Thomas frowned at Kocoum.

“It's alright,” Kocoum reassured as he helped Thomas out of his wet clothes before taking the naked man on his lap. Kocoum reclined against a tree, leaning Thomas back against him, as he scooped some paste from the ceramic bowl. Again Thomas was itching and Kocoum said, “Enough,” in his ear before taking his hands again. From his garments Kocoum pulled a short of rope and took Thomas' hands forcefully before tying his wrists together. Kocoum looped those arms over his own head, the rope keeping Thomas' wrists bound as he writhed in protest.

“Kocoum! Let me go!” Thomas said with frustration as he rubbed his thighs together again. Kocoum in response looped his legs with Thomas' and spread those apart so they could no longer touch. Thomas continued to thrash against him before the cold chill of the paste Kocoum made contacted Thomas' skin. “Ah!” he gasped in surprise as calloused hands spread the cream across his rash. The chill was so soothing, while Kocoum's palms were just the right level of rough to make Thomas sob for his expelled misery.

Slowly Kocoum's hands lathered up Thomas' body, grazing his belly. One by one each leg was released and Kocoum kneaded Thomas' tense thighs. Reduced to a limp pile of groans, Thomas' hands were released when Kocoum tenderly pulled the string on the knot and the rope came loose. Relaxing, his weight heavy on Kocoum's chest, large hands rubbed his wrists to ensure they weren't sore from being bound.

“Kocoum,” Thomas breathed.

“Does it itch anywhere else?” Kocoum asked in Thomas' ear whose head nodded gently with reluctance. Those pale hands took Kocoum's, newly coated in lather, and guided them downward. A little unsettled as his palms met Thomas's lower belly, those white hands on his pushed them lower still. Sure enough, Kocoum could feel the slight texture of the rash continue around either side of Thomas' hardening shaft. Thomas' pale hands rose up on Kocoum's arms, as the native's hands still descended. Moving slowly, Kocoum was reluctant to touch such an area of another man, yet enthralled all at once. And he was trying to heal his suffering friend, this seemed to be helping, but as Kocoum's fingers curled around and beneath Thomas' erection and sac, he began making deeper, alluring sounds. He writhed beneath Kocoum's touch, and Thomas kept making a motion with his hips as if there wasn't enough contact between them.

Kocoum was familiar with the physical reaction Thomas was having, all men would be, but he couldn't shake off the intimacy of their situation. As his right hand pressed lower, his fingers spreading the crevice between Thomas' legs, the other rose to brush the base of the swollen shaft which emerged from pretty orange curls. Thomas thrust then, his hips forcing one of Kocoum's fingertips to rub a tender pucker while the other grazed the length of his shaft with the subsequent fall. He froze then, Thomas realizing what he'd just done and feared he'd gone too far in Kocoum's arms. His body desired this so badly, and Thomas was a little frightened when he felt his mind just might too.

But Kocoum didn't push him away. Instead one of his hands took Thomas' erection in its strong grip while the other's fingers rubbed between the apex of his valley with more vigor. Thomas' own hands tried to encourage Kocoum and they fumbled with the grasp on his cock.

“Raise your arms,” Kocoum instructed.

“But I,” Thomas said breathlessly before the touch of those fantastic hands left him to take his wrists again. Kocoum forcefully raised Thomas' arms who just wanted so badly to touch himself with the loss of contact.

“Keep them there,” Kocoum's deep voice demanded in his ear and Thomas groaned softly. His fingers fumbled behind Kocoum's strong neck, gripping with the desire he wanted on his own skin. Thomas was rewarded for his hesitant obedience when Kocoum's hands returned to him, only this time they were stroking his chest and belly as if to map out a new world. Rough palms grazed curiously pink nipples raised on that incredible white expanse of Thomas' skin. They traveled lower, although they were much too slow for Thomas' taste, and he bit back his need to use his own hands to make Kocoum's move faster. Fingertips pressed into his belly and he groaned as they continued past his hips, to the inside of his thighs instead of his groin.  
Thomas thrust upward again and was startled when a deep sound of amusement came from the chest he lay against.

“Please, Kocoum,” Thomas begged.

“Mmm,” was Kocoum's response as he acknowledged Thomas' need. And finally those hands returned to grip his erection and fondle him.

The man on top of him squirming pleasantly, Kocoum was rewarded by a lovely groaning that never seemed to end as he stroked Thomas in his fist. Oozing into Kocoum's palm, Thomas assisted the slide of his hand with more thrusts from his hips as the grip on him tightened to compensate for the slickness. Fingers were at his entrance again as well, and Thomas cried out when a finger slipped into him curiously, the shot of discomfort overwhelmed with pleasure which radiated throughout him. Thomas came hard and his body seemed to melt on top of Kocoum's whose palm was full of semitransparent white fluid. He withdrew his finger slowly and touched Thomas' chest which raced up and down with his breath.

Rolling Thomas' limp body onto his front, Kocoum scooped up the smaller man in his arms and brought him into the river again. He washed Thomas to rid him of the remedy and his own essence before returning the young man to the wigwam to let him sleep. Kocoum gently coated Thomas with more of the lather and covered him with both his own and the light skinned man's blankets. Returning to his own bed, Kocoum sighed, ignoring his own body's arousal as he'd learned to do since the problem arose in youth. Instead he concentrated on watching Thomas sleep on the other side of the small wigwam to be sure the man was comfortable. Slowly he edged beyond coherency into sleep.

It was strange; he'd convinced himself he was just helping Thomas out, curing him, yet he'd gone much further than he'd needed to to do so. Perhaps by the following day Thomas wouldn't remember the event.

Thomas indeed wasn't thinking about his and Kocoum's experience. Instead he tossed and turned in bed with a fever, the rash subsiding at least but very slowly. Kocoum tended to Thomas patiently, ignoring his friend's nudity as he applied more medicine to the best of his ability.

>>>\----------------->

When Thomas finally recovered, the two continued for the other tribal village to comeplete their assignment. They were somewhat awkward around one another. Thomas avoided eye contact and Kocoum talked even less than usual. At least in a few days they'd be home and everything could be forgotten. Or so Thomas hoped.

They had done something carnally immoral and Thomas blamed himself entirely for having gotten Kocoum in such a sinful situation. Surely Kocoum had only thought himself helping sick Thomas, but then, could the serious man really be so oblivious as to what they'd done? How could he reconcile the two of them?

Perhaps Thomas had stayed too long so his and Kocoums feelings were become confused. They spent a considerable amount of time together, but without church to attend to judge his actions, could Thomas and Kocoum's time together be considered chaste? Thomas considered that it might be time for him to head back to England; he suspected he was more homesick than he could admit.

Again Thomas was concerned by how much time he had to think on their travels on foot but was relieved when he could see smoke in the distance as they scaled a large field.

Greeted by the tribe's chief, Thomas stood by a little awkwardly with the bewildered stares of the tribe's members. He supposed he should have anticipated such a reaction because he wasn't a native, but he'd grown so used to being accepted amongst Kocoum's people. Thomas was somewhat relieved that the chief seemed indifferent which was certainly better than hostile. The chief in this village was younger than Chief Powhatan, yet was more aged than Kocoum and held a certain wisdom in his eyes. Thomas felt assured it was that wisdom that kept their two tribes as allies rather than being one that warriors like Kocoum were sent off to fight.

They joined Chief Imado for a meal with a small group in his dwelling. Introduced to his wife and children, Thomas could feel the young eyes on him as they whispered to each other in curiosity. Smiling in their direction the children grew nervous before giggling. The kids distracted themselves when they were handed handmade toys and Thomas scooted closer to pick up one of the little husk dolls. Freezing as they looked up at him, the kids smiled and Thomas sat among them, playing together.

Kocoum's heart warmed as he watched this. He had long envied other's ability to understand children, a trait with which he didn't have the capacity to comprehend. And of course the friendly Thomas would be good with children. After all, Thomas had grown up with a relatively large family and there were always cousins and nieces and nephews to entertain.

As his eyes turned from Thomas so that he could speak with Chief Imado, Kocoum was surprised to see the elder man smiling at him. Growing nervous, Kocoum hesitated before the chief's expression turned more serious.

“The forest grows weary with the presence of his kind,” Chief Imado said slowly, nodding in Thomas' direction. “Though he is a good man, you must understand that the unrest with mother nature around us is escalating.” Kocoum inhaled, his brows furrowing in concern at the chief's words.

“Why does she grow uneasy?” Kocoum asked, though he suspected the answer.

“The white men disrespecting her. Rather than sharing with her, they reap resources and spread, claiming to own the land itself. It is unlikely such disrespect will go unpunished. Keep your eye on him, Kocoum, do not let Thomas out of your sight.”

Kocoum nodded graciously. He could sense the unrest, but did not know to what extent it manifested. Watching Thomas smiling with the children, Kocoum's heart swelled and he refused to let any harm come to his honest, new-found friend.

The following day they spent touring the village and sharing stories. They left early the next morning, both feeling energized with having stayed with new friends, yet they looked forward to returning home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is like 20 years late, but I just enjoy perverting things from my childhood it seems. Thank you all for reading!


	4. Stay, Please

Having stayed in the New World for several months, Thomas had had a lot of time to think about his time with the native tribe and felt as if his debt to Kocoum was surely paid off. He'd helped the man to recover and Kocoum had even assumed a useful role among his people, what more was there for Thomas to do?

He began to feel that his place was back in England, where his family still lived as well as the young woman to be his wife. It was Thomas' obligation to have children and continue his family name. Though he thought of all of the possibilities that lie ahead for him in England, it tore at Thomas' heart to think of leaving his new home, especially the idea of leaving Kocoum.

Thomas also had his afterlife to reconcile. There were sins he needed to confess since he'd made up for wounding Kocoum. One such encounter with the native himself, and Thomas knew he would be condemned if he didn't repent for their perverted encounter. Thomas' desire for repentance was half-hearted though, and Thomas had an underlying hope that something else would make him stay. But if he stayed, such an event had the potential to happen again and that scared Thomas as well. He had no right to drag Kocoum into his own confused feelings.

“I need to talk to you,” Thomas said as he entered Kocoum's home. The broad man turned to face him, acknowledging Thomas' presence but not verbally responding. Thomas continued, “I think it might be time for me to return to England.” Kocoum's stern expression turned into a frown and Thomas' heart sunk with the concern that suddenly registered in those black eyes.

“Why?” Kocoum asked shortly.

“I've done everything I can for you, and though I really appreciated having made a friend, my life is back in England,” Thomas explained. He was going to tell Kocoum of the woman he was going to marry but left out that detail after seeing the native man's already lonely expression.

“You should stay,” Kocoum said sternly. He wanted to tell Thomas that he couldn't stand the idea of life without him, but it was too much for him to expose himself that way.

“I-I can't,” Thomas began before Kocoum interrupted him and lips descended to meet his own. Shocked beyond expression Thomas froze in the moment as Kocoum withdrew and hugged the stunned man to his chest. Thomas' knees trembled and the warmth of the strong arms supporting him was intoxicating.

“Stay,” Kocoum said softly, his fingers stroking auburn hair as Thomas brought his arms to wrap around the broad waist before him. If Kocoum couldn't say what he felt, maybe he could show it. There was no escaping the stronger man's embrace and Thomas allowed himself to be swallowed up in that fact, pressing himself into Kocoum's warmth with subtle desperation. As they stood there for several moments, Thomas realized that Kocoum was finally expressing his feelings which must have been what reconciled the resentment he felt from being shot. Their hold on one another tightened briefly before they separated. Thomas looked determinedly upward into dark eyes, his emotions gripping him.

“Okay,” Thomas breathed, lifting himself on his toes to steal Kocoum's lips and they became a tangle of arms again. He was caught up in his desire for more, that need to claim Kocoum overwhelming him. Thomas avoided the rest of what he was going to say, that he'd stay, but only for another month or so before he would depart for England. He had to go home, Thomas didn't belong here, but in Kocoum's arms he couldn't deny the man; he didn't want to.

>>>\-------------->

Overjoyed with Thomas' apparent decision to stay by his side, Kocoum was excited to teach the white man how to shoot a bow and arrow to catch deer and help feed the tribe. While Thomas' presence was generally accepted and he had become quite the fisher, hunters sometimes held a matter of pride in their role. It was important to understand the connection they shared with the deer they killed. Just because they looked differently didn't hold the value of their life any lower than a human's.

Kocoum was confident that Thomas could understand this, the man possessed an intelligent level of empathy. If Thomas could connect with a cold hearted man like Kocoum, he would have no problem connecting with the natural beings around him. This was important for another reason which Kocoum didn't want to discuss with Thomas, so that the Earth around them could understand that these white men were human too and had the capacity to treasure it as the natives did. The unrest in the trees around their tribe disturbed them with unspoken anxiety. Thomas had not yet shown any signs of noticing, his perceptive skills hadn't developed enough to detect the unrest, but Kocoum would teach him so he too could understand.

“Ugh,” Thomas expressed with frustration. He had an incredible level of patience but trying to get a grasp on to what it took to shoot an arrow he suspected to be beyond his ability. Shooting a gun was simple enough; aim, pull a trigger then reload, but the bow and arrow was more complicated. It depended on the amount of tension Thomas exerted with his arms, how far back he pulled the bow, the drop over distance the arrow made since it didn't go nearly as fast as a bullet and the distance of the target itself.

For a moment Thomas considered that perhaps he could pick up a gun just to make hunting easier. Then he looked over to Kocoum and the idea dropped right to his tummy where butterflies seemed to hum inside of him. What was he thinking? He could never pick up a gun again, not after all that had happened. Thomas shook his head, brushing his long auburn hair from his eyes. Kocoum grew closer and gently pulled Thomas' hair behind his head. He tied it back since it was long enough to do so, tucking the free strands beside Thomas' ear. A subtle smile stretched Kocom's lips, a gesture which he seemed to do a lot lately for such a stern man.

“Let me help you,” Kocoum said as his hands covered Thomas', the shorter man's desire to give up altogether squandered. Forgetting his strength, Kocoum gripped Thomas' hand around the bow and pulled a little too hard. His palms already suffering from a few hours of that treatment, Thomas only managed to wince, focusing on his very close proximity to the native man.

“Uh, alright,” Thomas nodded, his pull on the bow slackened without Kocoum's strength to assist him as hands released his own. As he let another arrow fly Thomas withdrew suddenly, exclaiming “Ah!” as his hand cramped and pain shot up his lower arm. Kocoum came to his side quickly taking Thomas' hand on his own and observing the inflamed tinge of his palms.

“Come,” Kocoum said gently, leading Thomas by taking his hand which wasn't so uncomfortable. As they followed the trail back to the village, Kocoum instructed without turning in Thomas' direction, “Don't go out to practice without me. It isn't safe in these woods.”

Somewhat flattered by Thomas' concern, he was also frustrated. Why couldn't he practice on his own? Thomas had never had any trouble in the wood before, not since crossing through it to from the colony to the native village, and there were not signs of threats everywhere he went with Kocoum. Thomas nodded but did not offer any verbal acknowledgment, and Kocoum assumed he agreed.

When they got back to their shared hut, Kocoum sat on his bed, pulling Thomas to sit next to him. Taking a length of soft fabric, Kocoum gingerly wrapped up Thomas' sore hand so he could not continue to irritate it. Sensing that Kocoum delayed, Thomas watched the man indulge in tending to him. For all of Kocoum's severe expressions and his cold affront, he sure was gentle at heart.

>>>\------------->

The thought that Kocoum found Thomas incapable of taking care of himself continued to bother him for the following days. Thomas found that Kocoum was occupied meeting with the chief, so he gathered up his bow and arrow and headed for the woods. After walking some distance to find the area Kocoum introduced him to for this task, Thomas eyed the marred trees where arrows had grazed them.

As he raised his bow and arrow, Thomas steadied his breathing; he was ready to conquer this skill once and for all. Exhaling, ready to take the shot, Thomas' body froze when he heard the sudden rustling approach of a body and a bone chilling growl. Thomas' eyes nervously darted around him as a wolf came into view. With agility that surprised even him, Thomas' feet shot from the ground, rather than his arrow from his bow. He ran for his life, panic consuming him as the whole pack joined its leader.

Panting and frightened out of his wits, Thomas stumbled to the ground and a wolf leaped at him. He removed his quiver and threw it at the beast who caught it in its mouth, shaking it violently. Another came at him, tearing at his pant leg as Thomas yelped in terror.

Over the growling of the circle of wolves about him, Thomas heard a roar of a voice, the cry of a warrior. Kocoum seemed to descend from the sky from Thomas' viewpoint, a fearsome man of feral fury. The wolf which tore at Thomas' pants turned, as did the others, upon this new threat to assess this mad creature on two legs. One leaped at Kocoum but was thrashed away with the swing of the man's good arm and it crashed to the ground with a pained cry. Taking to its feet, the leader of the pack fled with its brothers in its wake.

Astonished and uncertain if perhaps the adrenaline that pulsed through his mind deluded his senses, Thomas perceived that feral side of Kocoum as beautiful. While his usual scowl was intimidating enough, the expression which Kocoum wore in that moment was that of a warrior, his eyes of blazing temperament. He was alert, on high, and Thomas knew those dark eyes too well to ever fear them, even seeing Kocoum like that.

Kocoum righted himself, that expression of rage falling instantly as he looked upon Thomas' disheveled state. As concern flooded Kocoum's features Thomas' heart fell to the pit of his stomach with the worry the native man expressed. Stepping closer, slowly at first as though his feet were reluctant to move, Kocoum's pace sped up before he fell to Thomas' side.

“Are you hurt?” Kocoum asked, his brows knit in anxiety, pulling Thomas into his arms and helping the shaking frame stand on his feet. Thomas swallowed, unable to talk as his limbs trembled and he nodded clumsily instead. Then Kocoum fell to his knees, wrapping his arms about the nimble, pale waist and burying his face into Thomas' belly. His breath catching, Thomas thought his limbs couldn't get any weaker; he was mistaken and the man about his waist supported him.

“I'm sorry,” Kocoum apologized, hot breath gracing Thomas' mid drift. Startled, Thomas didn't understand why Kocoum was the one apologizing when he'd been the one who ran off. “I should have told you why I didn't want you to leave without me,” Thomas' ears burned as he listened, Kocoum's deep voice penetrating his exhausted consciousness and soothing him to the core. “The mother is upset, the newcomers who settle along her shores are disrespectful. I couldn't tell you because,” Kocoum's breath hitched and Thomas feared the man might be crying. But surely Kocoum wasn't capable of tears though his reaction might be the equivalent. His voice softening, Kocoum finished, “I didn't want you to return to your people,” before burying his face into Thomas' tummy in both shame and overwhelming affection.

“Kocoum,” Thomas said softly, a hand resting on the man's bare shoulder while the other stroked black hair from the man's neck. “Kocoum,” Thomas said again when he gained no response and he used his hands to guide Kocoum's face to look up at him. Those dark eyes pierced him, and Thomas paused to collect himself. “I won't leave,” he inhaled, “I couldn't leave you behind, I just—I couldn't.” Thomas finished with his voice dying off, both his voice and his lips trembling.

Kocoum's arms loosened and Thomas sagged against him, large hands supporting his sides as he was lowered slowly. Kocoum's fingertips pressed into Thomas' flesh as they held him beneath the edge of his shirt. Shaken, Thomas' mouth was caught by Kocoum's and his arms tightened around the man's neck, his fingers entwined in black hair. The last remnants of Thomas' pent up fear dissolved then, as Kocoum's thick lips sucked at his own.

Thomas sobbed, the shock from being attacked and convinced he was going to die falling down upon him all at once. Kocoum devoured those sobs, sucking and kissing and licking until Thomas was breathless. Held in strong arms, Kocoum rocked gently, hugging Thomas to him protectively. The trembling frame of Thomas pressed to Kocoum's front, the large native man scooped him up in his arms and they slowly returned to the village.

It was evening when they returned and Kocoum laid Thomas down on his bed. “Get some rest,” Kocoum said softly so he didn't scare off Thomas' desire to sleep. As he turned to leave, Thomas caught Kocoum's hand and with a tug the native paused before looking down at the auburn haired man.

“Stay,” Thomas said softly, his voice hopeful yet demanding. Kocoum nodded in response, crawling onto the bed and wrapping his thick arm around Thomas, tracing circles on his back to sooth him. Thomas wiggled closer to kiss Kocoum, the tip of his tongue seeking invitation which Kocoum granted him. Responding lazily, Kocoum allowed Thomas one moment of aggression, his tongue licking across his lips before the man finally relaxed and laid back to sleep in Kocoum's arms.

Though it took Kocoum some time to fall asleep himself, he enjoyed his moments simply watching the light-skinned man sleep so peacefully.


	5. Ashes to Ashes

Kocoum spoke cheerfully to Thomas as they returned from a neighboring village through the forest. He was beginning to establish a new found sense of significance maintaining peace between his people rather than being a warrior of violence.

The sun filtered through the leaves above them, light and shadow dancing across Thomas and Kocoum as they occasionally brushed shoulders. They grew close to the tribe's settlement and a strange, eerie sensation seemed to consume the area. Growing silent, Kocoum and Thomas continued on before dread filled them both.

In the clearing where their village once stood were piles of burnt debris. Smoldering remains of wigwams exerted diminishing bouts of smoke and there was an underlying scent of burned flesh. Thomas' eyes watered and he dared to glance toward Kocoum, his expression wide and vulnerable as he took in the scene. A wild fire seared within Kocoum and Thomas thought he could feel the heat radiating from his friend. 

Their tribe was wiped out; Kocoum's people slaughtered. An indiscernible rush of emotions drown Kocum where he stood and the one to trump them all was his rage. He walked slowly through the decimated remnants of his burned up home, nothing left but smoldering ashes and charred masses that were once bodies. It boiled to the surface and poured from Kocoum as he seemed to resort to being the wild creature he'd contained for months. Thomas was frightened by him but empathized with Kocoum all at once.

“I'll kill them!” Kocoum shouted as he dropped their traveling supplies to the ground. He moved from pile to pile of charred material, digging through debris for something to fight with.

“No, Kocoum,” Thomas argued, reaching out to place a hand on the Kocoum's arm.

He turned viciously toward Thomas whose fear reached its pinnacle as he anticipated Kocoum's anger being taken out upon him. He pushed Thomas back who stumbled, falling onto the ground as Kocoum knelt over him, gripping the pale man's small wrists. He shoved Thomas' wrists into the dirt and ash and peered down into watery red eyes filled with fear and apprehension.

He should kill them, all of those light-skinned savages, but as Kocoum looked down upon Thomas, the man who had become so close to him, he wavered. And that hesitation angered him even more. Releasing Thomas' wrists Kocoum raised his fists above his head as though he prepared to smash them into the man below. Thomas resigned himself to the idea of Kocoum killing him then. Perhaps it could be some kind of retribution for what those who he considered his people had done to Kocoum and the natives. Thomas looked up at the feral man, unblinking through blurry eyes and resisted his body's compulsive need to remove his submissive hands from the dirt beside him to shield his face.

As Kocoum's fists came down, Thomas unintentionally flinched though his gaze was unwavering as dark hands punched the ground on either side of his head. Kocoum collapsed then, avoiding Thomas' eyes to bury his face into the crook of the smaller man's neck as his chest shuddered. Sobbing almost silently, Kocoum felt arms wrap around his back as he let his weight press into Thomas beneath him. His breath was short with Kocoum's weight, but Thomas did not voice any complaints, instead he gripped the man tighter and let his tears fall as he squeezed his eyes shut.

For many moments they lay together, embracing, before Kocoum rolled off of Thomas to sit up, simultaneously lifting the man with him. It allowed Kocoum to wrap his arms around Thomas too, cradled in his lap as he rocked gently to calm them both. Grief coursed between them as if they were one body.

The native village had thought themselves safe after allying with the Virginia Company but here they'd been betrayed, perhaps not by those exact people, but the specifics didn't matter. For hours Kocoum and Thomas sat amongst the remains and mourned silently, letting their surroundings do all of the talking. The air was painfully still and felt heavy inside their chests, the weight of what once was boring down on them. Kocoum couldn't help but cling to Thomas, the last tangible essence of his people. Though Thomas was born of another world, he had known all of Kocoum's extended family and friends and acquaintances that were no more. A burdensome regret filled Kocoum along with his remorse, realizing he'd taken those around him for granted in his own stubborn selfishness.

He would not allow himself to take Thomas for granted too.

When night began to fall a chilly wind fell across the empty space and Thomas shivered quietly. Kocoum seemed to awaken from his daze by Thomas' involuntary movement who he held in his arms. Standing slowly, Thomas' reddened eyes peered curiously up at him before Kocoum offered him a hand. Pulling Thomas up, Kocoum lead them toward the wood, stopping only briefly to pick up the supplies they'd discarded.

Though he was exhausted, it occurred to Kocoum it might be dangerous to remain in those ruins when enemies could descend on them at any time; keeping Thomas there was not safe. He considered traveling back to the tribe from which they'd come but the idea unsettled him. Surely the white men could easily scout out that village or they may already know where they were. Besides, the trip was several days on foot.

It would be safer to seek out a new location altogether. Though it might be lonely, Thomas and he could survive on their own and that was the priority for the moment; in fact, it always would be. Kocoum led them in the direction opposite the British colony, the direction they would embark upon the following morning upon daybreak. For the time being they would rest. Their bodies were already tired from the trek home and they would need their energy.

As Kocoum held Thomas close he contemplated traveling to spread the word of the hostile threat once they'd found a place to stay. Surely the mountainous hideaway Kocoum had visited as a child would keep them safe.

In the morning Thomas and Kocoum set out and walked for nearly the whole day before setting up camp again. It would be another two days until they entered the mountains and a third across the terrain to where Kocoum knew they'd be safe. Again they slept clinging to one another.

>>>\---------------->

As Thomas rolled over on the padded bed on the ground of the wigwam expecting to find Kocoum to share his warmth, his eyes shot open. The mattress was empty beside him and Thomas sat up abruptly.

After the tragic slaughter of their people, a variety of feelings, all resembling some form of dread, coursed through Thomas. It was too early in the morning for Kocoum to go out hunting, the sun wasn't even up yet. The chill of the morning air bit at Thomas who got up and dressed before sitting outside the entrance of the wigwam, waiting for Kocoum.

After two hours, Thomas' concern turned for the worst and he began to worry that Kocoum may not return at all. He could easily assume where the native had gone, back to the colony to seek out some kind of pointless revenge. Thomas grew angry, how could Kocoum be so careless as to seek out his own death and leave him behind. That was always the way it was; those who were left behind to grieve would be consumed by their loved one's selfish act.

But if Kocoum could just return to him, that would be enough. Thomas could forgive him, just let Kocoum come home safe. He internally pleaded, an equivalent of prayer directed more to the nature of this wood that it might guide Kocoum back to him safely. They had suffered too much loss already and Thomas couldn't bear going on by his lonesome.

“Kocoum!” Thomas shouted as he saw the man approach among the trees through the thick of fog. He ran, his anxiety finally calming within his chest at the sight of Kocoum's safe return. In the light of dawn, red light speckled between leaves cast upon the ground, there was an unsettling aura about Kocoum but Thomas ignored his inner sense of dread. He was preparing to open his arms and throw himself into Kocoum's strong chest but Thomas slowed before coming to a halt as awe struck his expression.

Kocoum's own expression was dismal, almost sorrowful as he walked slowly. There was blood drying across his skin, his long black tresses matted against his face and shoulders as if they'd been drenched.

“Kocoum,” Thomas croaked, his voice dying as it emerged from his lips and his eyes studied the man before him. The native offered no verbal response and waited for Thomas' eyes to come back to his. As brown met black, Thomas read the pleading ache that begged for his forgiveness in Kocoum's eyes.

Kocoum's heart ached; he could not discern if that dread in Thomas' eyes was because he was worried for his lover's safety or if the smaller man feared the feral man before him. What made matters worse was that Kocoum could not make excuses for the situation and the truth would have sounded perhaps more unbelievable to a man who had not grown up with his people. Kocoum had dreamed of his rage as he had many nights, of he himself embodying the anger and betrayal of his people to take revenge upon the white men. He ravaged and slay them with his own hands, dousing himself in blood in that dream, though all the world seemed hazy behind his eyes.

Then Kocoum had awoken to find himself standing in an unfamiliar area of wood with the pointed log wall of a fort behind him. His hands were spotted red and his eyes widened as he glanced backward once before running for the cover of the forest. Kocoum didn't know how long he ran through the darkness and he did not think of the direction he headed. Though his muscles ached throughout his body and the pads of his bare feet felt raw but Kocoum persisted. However, his mind still seemed foggy and dread welled in his heart. Kocoum wanted to forget that dream once and for all, finding that all the anger that had been accumulated in his past was no longer present within him. Instead he looked forward and as Thomas' smile came to mind his heart warmed before again being doused in anxiety.

What would Thomas think of him like this?

As his vision cleared and exhaustion seemed to subside for the moment, Kocoum looked down upon Thomas as the man slowly dared to take a step toward him.

“Kocoum,” Thomas whispered, closing the distance between them. “Are you alright?” he asked softly as he lifted his hands to pull the dirty hair from Kocoum's face. Kocoum drew them together then, capturing Thomas in his strong arms to hide his face against the shorter man's shoulder. He let his stern expression fall away to betray his desperate love for Thomas who felt Kocoum's emotion flow through them both. Hot breath fell down Thomas' collar in sobs as Kocoum's broad chest heaved against him. As Kocoum sobbed quietly in his arms, Thomas stroked the man's hair, pressing his lips along the native's neck.

They stood together long enough for the sun to noticeably rise in the sky as the color of sunrise faded to the gold of morning light. Finally Kocoum's shuddering body stilled as exhaustion gripped him and he let go of Thomas.

“Let's get you cleaned up,” Thomas said softly, taking Kocoum's hand and leading him to the river they camped along. As if it were an unspoken agreement between them, Thomas did not pry into what had traversed. Thomas could assume enough to know what Kocoum had been off doing, and for the moment he was merely relieved to have the man home to him. It was as if Thomas anticipated this happening as soon as they saw the smoldering remains of Kocoum's tribe. What mattered was that it wouldn't keep happening.

Removing what clothes they wore, Thomas and Kocoum waded into the pool of water that collected along the riverside. Turning toward Kocoum, Thomas' palms meet the man's bare stomach along the water's surface to make small circles and wash blood from his taut skin.

“Is it over?” Thomas asked timidly, his voice soft and he diverted his eyes, avoiding Kocoums'. “Are you finished running off to pay debts on your own?” he clarified with concern in his expression. A hand touched his chin, guiding his face to look upward into Kocoum's. Thomas closed his eyes as Kocoum's thick lips brushed along his own. Exhaling shakily as if to expel his pent up worry, Kocoum's lips trailed along the side of his face until he nuzzled Thomas' cheek with his own. “Kneel down,” Thomas whispered in Kocoum's ear and the man complied, resisting the urge to kiss the pale chest in his vision.

Thomas circled him until he stood behind Kocoum and took long black tresses in his hands. Kocoum leaned his head back, submerging his hair into the river. Thomas stroked them back from Kocoum's scalp, wiping away dirt and blood which tinted the water a diluted rust. Kocoum silently reveled in Thomas' touch and wondered why he'd never had his hair washed by him before. Thomas' finger's gently combed through Kocoum's black strands who closed his eyes and hummed his appreciation.

The memory of his slaughtered tribe kept trying to creep into Kocoum's mind, but it was dull, the way one might remember a story passed down through generations. The general idea was there, but the details were hazy and Kocoum found it easy to pass it off. Though rage had saturated his being shortly before, Kocoum could not muster up that same frustration as if it had all been drained from him. The forest no longer filled him with a sense of dread; it had expended its wrath through its possession of Kocoum's native vessel.

Thomas seemed to stroke Kocoum's hair for a long time, long after he'd washed it clean. Kocoum began to feel as though he could sleep there on his knees in the pool. He was awoken when Thomas' lips met his forehead, trailing downward until they fell upon Kocoum's lips. Thomas paused to consider before pressing his lips demandingly into Kocoum's who exhaled shakily.

“Don't you run off like that ever again,” Thomas commanded softly, delving his tongue into Kocoum's mouth before he could respond. Pale fingers gripped Kocoum's black hair, possessive and needy. Kocoum lifted his own fingers to tangle in Thomas' auburn hair, their tongues slipping along one another with excitement and a little desperation.

When they parted Thomas had Kocoum stand, taking him back to bed so the native could catch up on sleep before they headed out for the day.

>>>\---------------->

A white man from the colony Kocoum had wreaked havoc on followed them with malice intent. Thomas panicked when he saw Kocoum cornered on the edge of a cliff which overlooked a waterfall. The white man pulled out his gun which Kocoum desperately took from him and tossed it over the edge. Furious, the man pulled out a blunt object and swung it at the native warrior. Kocoum tried to smack it away but he seemed out of touch with his natural ability to fight, as if that night of carnage had drained his body. Though his stance was slightly crouched and Kocoum was ready to move, he neglected to avoid a blow to the head with the blunt edge of the knife the colonist wielded. Reaching out suddenly, Kocoum managed to grab ahold of the man's shirt, tearing it but not enough to set him free. Kocoum fell backwards over the edge of the cliff, taking the man with him. Slowly knocked unconscious by the blow, Kocoum fell into the deep of the pool beneath, unable to swim himself to safety, while the white man was dashed upon the rocks.

“Kocoum!” Thomas shouted as he ran to the edge. He looked down, desperately seeking some sign of a human presence amongst the foamy, churning water. Concern gripping his senses, Thomas blindly dove off of the cliff and plummeted into the depths of the water. He swam with the strong current, mustering all of his strength so he might catch up to Kocoum. Then Thomas spotted the floating outline of a native body ahead and he pushed himself to catch up with the unconscious man. When he finally reached Kocoum, Thomas tried to roll him onto his front, finding him face down in the water. Trying to turn over so much unconscious dead weight proved challenging and Thomas kept having to push himself under to compensate for Kocoum's motionless body. With much difficulty he swam for both of them, tugging on Kocoum just enough to pull him ashore up to his shoulders.

Thomas swept the black hair back from Kocoum's expressionless face before he bowed to join their lips. He rose to push frantically on Kocoum's chest several times then bowed to breath into the man again. Thomas repeated the process several times but Kocoum remained motionless as tears streaked his wet face. But he refused to give in, Thomas refused to let Kocoum leave him behind in the world, not when they'd been through so much. Not when he loved him so much.

Thomas nearly gave up but his heartbeat coursed through him, giving him too much drive to stop as if his body were on autopilot. He pushed air into Kocoum with all of his might to fill the larger man's chest. For a moment Thomas felt like there was a breeze which whispered into Kocoum alongside his breath. A relaxing hum as if the roar of the waterfall seemed to sing to Thomas, soothing his soul. Beneath him Kocoum suddenly lurched and sputtered, water gushing from his lips as he rolled over to expel it from his lungs. Kocoum rolled over right into Thomas' lap whose heart leaped into his chest as his hands shot out to help steady and sooth the native.

Gasping for air, Kocoum gripped Thomas as if the first thing to come back to him was his strength and clutching the man who anchored him to being alive. Thomas cradled Kocoum's head gently, brushing back his damp hair which had been coated with dirt from the river bank. Kocoum's chest still rose and fell quickly as though his body couldn't get enough of that delicious oxygen. Every so often he'd choke, his sore lungs contracting, his throat feeling raw but Thomas' hands coaxed him to relax again. Kocoum's mind was in a daze from oxygen deprivation and he was so exhausted; certainly being smacked in the head before the fall didn't help anything. In fact, Kocoum had a pretty steady headache but the pain was so consistent it was almost numbing and he couldn't distinguish it as being any different from normal. Closing his eyes, Kocoum let his weary body and mind relax as he slowly fell asleep.

“Kocoum,” Thomas' voice called, pulling him from his sleep but he didn't open his eyes. “Kocoum, look at me,” he demanded softly and Kocoum's eyes barely opened. His head throbbed though they were in the shade of a tree; surely had they been in the sun Kocoum couldn't have opened his eyes at all. For a moment it was difficult for Kocoum to piece together who it was that loomed over him but he was filled with a comforting warmth. Thomas' brown eyes peered into black, boring into Kocoum for some reassurance the man was mentally still himself. He wanted to let Kocoum recover before he spoke, the wait tearing at his chest. “How do you feel?” Thomas asked, his fingertips caressing the side of Kocoum's face.

Swallowing, Kocoum opened his mouth to say something but he choked, unable to push words through his sore chest. Thomas regretted needing an answer from Kocoum and as the man's coughs subsided black iris' met his own again. Kocoum lifted one heavy arm, bringing his hand to cup the one that stroked the side of his face. He drew Thomas' hand to his mouth and kissed it gently as the paler man's breath hitched and he peered down at Kocoum. Flooded with relief, Thomas swooned slightly as the tension and worry left his body. He watched Kocoum close his eyes again, his hand falling to the side of his head as sleep consumed his consciousness.

Thomas gently lifted Kocoum from his lap, pulling away to rest his head on the soft sand of the bank. He watched Kocoum for some time to be sure the man showed no signs of suffering who remained still, except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. As the sun moved across the sky, Kocoum was basked in the warmth of the summer light and Thomas was assured the man would be alright. He rose to his feet and entered the forest in search of the berries and other edibles that would be cropping up that time of year.

Though Thomas worried that more men might be in pursuit of them, he was assured by the fact that the cliff over which they'd fallen would take a long time to come down from and even longer to go around as any logical man would do. He crouched, picking blueberries and putting them into the pouch he'd made by lifting the front of his shirt. The growing of seasonal plants Thomas learned from the native tribe would serve them well. Though they were in passing, they lived on in the knowledge they handed down. Venturing a bit further, Thomas reached to pluck nuts from a tree and decided it was enough food for the moment. His anxious need to return to Kocoum's side was getting the best of him.

Thomas realized just how hungry he was as well, and began snacking as he watched Kocoum sleep for another hour or two. He contemplated the higher ground they sought out, mountains Kocoum had visited as a child which he instinctively felt would keep them safe. Though he had had his doubts at first, Thomas trusted Kocoum and was gradually won over by the whispering wind that spoke to him every so often.

And though Thomas knew of the wondrous nature the New World had in store, he was especially excited to find what a beauty its mountains could be. Certainly he wouldn't be disappointed; it would become their new home after all. Thomas heard a noise from beside him as he stared into the glittering water of the river and turned his head.

Black eyes watched him beneath lazy eyelids and Thomas reached out to cup the top of Kocoum's head with his palm. He bent down to kiss the man's forehead and Kocoum smiled softly. As he righted himself, Thomas' palm rest in the sand to support him as he leaned over Kocoum to block out the sun.

“Are you hungry?” Thomas whispered, his voice faint over the subtle roar of the river and distant waterfall. “Or would you rather keep resting?” he added with consideration.

Kocoum lifted himself then until he was propped up on his elbows. His body was sluggish but his mind felt much better after the nap and Thomas helped him sit up a bit more before supporting him with his own body. Kocoum leaned heavily into Thomas for a moment before composing himself. He was indeed hungry but most of all he wanted to be comforted, to forfeit his prideful nature for the endearing touch of his lover. And Thomas obliged as he lifted a blueberry to Kocoum's lips. Chewing slowly, Kocoum savored the sweetness he knew to only be enhanced by the hand that fed it to him.

“Here,” Thomas offered as he held out a handful of nuts he'd shelled. He fed one to Kocoum who choked suddenly, his jaw aching as he tried to chew anything solid. A shot of pain went to his head and Kocoum spat out the fragments onto the beach. “What's wrong?” Thomas asked. “You need to eat something solid,” he pressed.

“It hurts to chew,” Kocoum whispered, his voice still a little hoarse. Thomas remembered the man had been hit over the head but he'd seen it at such a distance he wasn't sure if Kocoum's jaw might have been injured in the impact. Thomas took a couple of nuts and seeds into his own mouth and chewed; surely a mortar and pestle would be easier but he'd have to craft one which was too inconvenient for the moment. Kocoum eyed his soft pink lips as they descended to meet his own. His tongue sucked at Thomas' and though his mouth still ached Kocoum could endure for something like this. Thomas' mouth was soft, slow, and sweet, the taste of blueberries lingering on his tongue and slightly tinted lips.

Thomas smiled into Kocoum's kiss after the man swallowed and refused to let him have his mouth back. “Kocoum-,” he breathe before his lips were taken again. “You need-” Kocoum sucked at his lower lip. “To eat-” Thomas finished quickly. Finally Kocoum released him and Thomas realized how much quicker he was breathing.

Thomas managed to successfully feed Kocoum a bit more before just cradling the tired man in his arms. Remembering he too had been drenched in the river, Thomas laid down next to Kocoum and they both napped on the riverbank beneath the summer sun.

>>>\---------------->

Finally they reached the old wigwam after a climb across a mountainous rise of the ground. Once they'd gotten inside Thomas and Kocoum collapsed in exhaustion, barely even setting up bedding before they gave in. They slept all night and through the sunrise, reveling in their comfort with the knowledge they were safe.

There was a wild roaring the distance and Thomas awoke suddenly. Surely they had suffered enough! He couldn't take anymore as his heart pounded in his chest but he rolled over to find that Kocoum was not next to him. Instead he caught sight of the man's back as he left their abode and Thomas got up and dressed quickly.

“Sister!” Thomas heard Kocoum shout into the wood and again came the distant roar. Thomas was baffled; maybe Kocoum really had been hit too hard over the head on that cliff. He didn't have a sister.

Then Thomas swore he heard the sudden call of human voices intermingling with the bear's and he watched as the small cluster emerged from the base of the forest. Everything fell together then as Thomas recognized the bear Kocoum had met with when he followed him into the woods. Riding on the bear's back and walking beside her were children and Thomas' heart fluttered. He knew those faces!

“Matoaka!” Thomas said suddenly, calling out to the children he had only vaguely gotten to know during his brief time with Kocoum's people. As he drew close to them, he pulled the eldest girl to him and kissed the top of her head. Matoaka was startled, perhaps still in shock from the events that had passed, and there in Thomas' arms she broke into uncontrollable sobs for the family and community that were lost to her. Kocoum joined their side, stroking the head of the benevolent bear who had brought these survivors to them. The two smaller children on her back, a toddler and her slightly older brother reached their arms out to Kocoum who hesitated. Children had never really been his thing, but he leaned down to their open arms and took them in his. They clung to him desperately, perhaps too young to completely understand what had come to pass, but knew this familiar face was an equivalent to a god send to them. Looking up at Kocoum's face they followed the man's gaze who watched Thomas with an expression of smitten tenderness.

The pale man had begun to cry in the arms of the sobbing girl who clung to him and as the two children in Kocoum's arms watched them they burst into tears as well. Kocoum sighed, doubting he had the capacity to join in on the fun as he looked down at his sister bear. She eyed him curiously and he smiled gently as the two children in his arms buried their wet faces into his collarbone.

As the six of them squeezed in and settled down in their makeshift home, a shower of rain began to fall outside. The wind gushed warm air through their little home as Thomas and Kocoum shared their rations with the children and bear. The breeze coaxed the children to sleep in the men's arms who laid them down to sleep against the warmth of Kocoum's sister. Thomas returned to the bed where they'd been sitting while Kocoum remained at the bear's side, stroking her fur and whispering praise. His sister grunted appreciatively before Kocoum returned to Thomas' side. Devoid of anything to say in his astonishment, Thomas sniffled and wiped the remaining moistness from his eyes.

Suddenly Kocoum took Thomas' hand and tugged him to his feet. Startled, Thomas followed Kocoum's lead to the doorway outside.

“But it's raining,” Thomas protested, pointing out the obvious. It was no use and he followed Kocoum out beneath the sky which seemed to cry for their happiness. Beneath the patter of rain on the roof, the bear's ears twitched as she heard the most subtle of Kocoum's gleeful cries from outside.

Thomas was somewhat bewildered as he heart pounded in his chest and Kocoum spun him around, their hands entwined, as if dancing madly. The native shouted wildly and Thomas laughed with an excitement that finally wasn't dulled by the tragedy they endured. Drawn into Kocoum's arms, Thomas' feet left the ground as he was lifted and lips kissed his own. Once, then again, over and over, Kocoum's lips trailed up his temple and he was drawn into a hug. Thomas' arms about Kocoum's neck, he laughed into his lover's ear as a smile pressed into his shoulder. They spun, their drenched skin peeling drops of water as they embraced.

All was not lost.


	6. Waterfall

Matoaka was Chief Powhatan's niece and the last remaining heir of their chieftain. But Thomas and Kocoum did not mention this of her, for Matoaka was a surprisingly strong willed girl and did not cry since initially being joined with who would with time become her new fathers. One day she might regain her title but for the time being she was just a child who had endured and should enjoy her youth.

When the savage Europeans had invaded their village, Matoaka's father had hidden her in a small crawl space used for storing food and there she had stayed with her hands to her ears and her eyes clenched shut. Only when she'd eaten all of her reserves did she dig her way out of the debris left of her home. It was then that the bear had approached her, having smelled her presence, with the two smaller children on her back.

Amonute, the elder brother of the pair, held Nakoma in his arms, the little girl named for her mother. Hearing the ruckus and seeing the smoke from their village, their mother had raced from the maize fields to scoop them into her arms from their home. She led them back to the fields and told them to run after hugging them both. They didn't understand but listened regardless.

When little Nakoma grew too tired from running, Amonute had carried her the rest of the way on his back into the woods beyond. Shortly afterward the fields were set ablaze and the siblings wandered toward the river where they came across a bear fishing. The bear smelled them and approached despite the children's fear and they ran away. The bear remembered that Kocoum had been the same age as that boy when he'd wandered into her mother's wood and she was just a cub. She brought Nakoma and Amonute berries and left them in a pile for the children. Amonute boldly shooed the bear away as Nakoma clung to his side but they were hungry and indulged. Eventually they warmed up to the friendly bear and slept at her side as they awaited the return of their mother.

A few days later they rode the back of the bear through the blackened remains of a field and into the remains of the village. It was then that she caught the sent of yet another human child amongst the stench of burning hide. The older girl emerged from the remains and fearlessly clung to the approaching bear. She had dutifully helped the bear take care of the two younger children until they embarked to follow the familiar scent of Kocoum and even easier scent to track of the exotic Thomas.

Matoaka's sense of leadership made Kocoum and Thomas' sudden submergence into the role of fatherhood considerably easier. She would watch over the younger ones when they went out to hunt or even help in gathering nuts and berries. The fact they had a full grown mother bear at their side certainly didn't hinder the situation.

At first the six made an awkward family. Kocoum was grateful Thomas and his sister bear were there to mother the children when they realized their own mother would not be coming home. He was comforted that he could at least relate to Matoaka's dutiful composure and distracted the older girl from tragedy by teaching her everything he knew of the world around them.

As they continued to venture on foot after several days rest, they finally reached the mountains Kocoum and Thomas sought. Matoaka helped them build a more permanent home while the younger children played. Finding time to themselves became a real task, however, and Thomas and Kocoum treasured their rare moments of privacy.

They were situated not far from a waterfall, though this one was different than the one from which they'd fallen two weeks before. It was tiered with rocks which water gushed and sprayed over into a deep pool beneath. Kocoum and Thomas made it their special retreat which only sister bear knew of in case there was an emergency and they needed to be found.

>>>\---------------->

That day Kocoum did not walk with Thomas to the usual location to hunt or fish, instead they ventured with fingers entwined to a far more private area. They walked for some time before coming upon a stream and both stopped beside it. Kocoum removed his hide shoes and Thomas mimicked him before stepping into the sun warmed water from the mountains that trickled up to their ankles. Taking Thomas' hand again, Kocoum watched the pale man who gleefully looked down as his steps briskly splashed the water. Carrying on over the tiny pebble bed of the stream, a quiet roar grew in the distance as the water began to deepen.

Thomas could see the rise of a waterfall gushing over multiple tiers of rock and as they approached it grew greater in height. Kocoum noted the water was halfway up their shins and he stepped out of the stream, leaving Thomas' hand to remove his pants. Thomas watched as the copper skinned man stripped and he nervously eyed Kocoum's nudity. They had only been to the waterfall once before to be alone and each visit to come would exhilarate them both.

Though he had seen Kocoum naked several times, it was still difficult not to think with the modest mentality of the English. Though Kocoum had surely lost weight since his time as a warrior while he was bedridden after being shot, he was still well sculpted. His thighs were thick from running, the ripple of his abdomen more subtle than it used to be but still apparent, and his strong featured face had an exotic intensity. Kocoum's skin was such a contrast when Thomas noticed their arms close to one another. He was beautiful.

“What are you--?” Thomas asked, lost for words.

“No one will see us,” came a stern yet encouraging answer from Kocoum who stood there meeting Thomas' eyes. Glancing away with an awkward, crooked smile, Thomas stepped from the stream as well to remove his shirt. He kept his back to Kocoum as he slowly loosened his waistband before letting his pants quickly drop. Thomas shielded himself with his hands and refused to turn completely toward Kocoum who approached him. A palm rested on his shoulder before trailing his fingertips diagonally across his back to grasp for a hand. “Come,” Kocoum said with only a brief glance at Thomas to the pale man's relief. He followed Kocoum, their fingers entwined, as they again entered the water though this time it deepened more quickly than the stream. Thomas watched Kocoum's thick thighs descend beneath the water's surface, his eyes moving very gradually upward to his round rear and Thomas gulped.

Once the water engulfed them to their midsections, Kocoum turned toward Thomas whose gaze quickly darted up from the man's muscled, defined backside. For a moment Thomas thought he saw a trace of amusement in Kocoum's eyes who took his other hand as they stood face to face. Kocoum gently closed most of the distance between them which drew Thomas' gaze farther upward as the copper skinned man began to speak.

“Thomas,” Kocoum breathed, his deep voice. He paused for a moment, peering into brown eyes beneath curious auburn eyebrows knitted with anticipation. “You have become very important to me,” Kocoum confessed and though Thomas knew this already, to hear his lover's words sent his heart spiraling into an overwhelming contentment. Drawing his hands before him, Thomas pressed his pale palms to Kocoum's dark chest and drew his fingertips around the broad form. Pressing his cheek to Kocoum's shoulder, Thomas felt his embrace welcomed as large hands drew him closer.

“You're important to me too,” Thomas admitted quietly and Kocoum's large hands squeezed the pale upper back with affection. Feeling soft skin meet his shoulder, Thomas noticed as tension left Kocoum's body and that serious composure the man always carried was released. Kocoum buried his face into Thomas' shoulder, his expression betraying his pent up affection since the pale man he embraced couldn't see it. But Thomas could feel Kocoum's relief in his body language and the way the man sighed as if expelling a great weight. Withdrawing enough to turn his head in the other direction Thomas kissed the side of Kocoum's neck with reassurance. Never before had Thomas felt his heart ache for so much happiness.

For a moment Thomas caught a glimpse of Kocoum's exposed expression before the copper man took his lips and he closed his eyes. Though Kocoum's lips were gentle as if handling something precious, Thomas felt a feverish urge grip him and he persistently licked at the man's mouth. Letting him in, Thomas stole Kocoum as he pressed his tongue to seek out the one beyond those soft thick lips. A deep sound emerged within Kocoum's throat as Thomas overtook him and pale hands slowly traced down his spine. Kocoum's fingers threaded into Thomas' hair as he reciprocated, delving his tongue past light pink lips, holding him steady. Excitedly, Thomas' fingers gripped handfuls of Kocoum's ass with a good squeeze as he pressed his front into the built man.

“Ah--” broke free from Kocoum's lips in surprise which parted from Thomas'. Realizing the lewd sound he'd made Kocoum's serious expression returned though his eyes betrayed his embarrassment. Thomas smiled broadly, unable to conceal his amusement as he gave Kocoum another squeeze, blatantly pressing his growing arousal into the others'. Kocoum didn't allow himself to betray any sound of excitement this time, but there was a moment when his eyelids faltered, drooping heavily as pleasure consumed him. Thomas, still smiling, loosened his grip, ready to tighten it again for another exciting opportunity to tease Kocoum.

But large hands stopped him, gripping Thomas' wrists to pull his venturous hands from Kocoum with a small exertion of the man's powerful strength. Thomas was shoved backward, stumbling and splashing beneath the water's surface, his heart racing as he came back up to the top to gasp for air and wipe the water from his eyes. He glared at Kocoum, somewhat frightened that he may have gone too far only to see the slightest hint of a smile on the man's lips. His eyes were alight and Thomas gasped as Kocoum lunged at him with a playful battle cry, his good arm outstretched while the other was raised as far as it could be without causing him pain. Thomas was drawn back underwater by Kocoum and found his breath knocked out of him, not by the impact but by the laugh he elicited beneath the surface, bubbles gushing from his lips. They both came up quickly, each stricken with playful determination on their faces before Thomas lunged at Kocoum. The larger man indulged him, falling backward into the water as if Thomas actually possessed the strength to push him under, and again they sunk to break apart and rise again. Closer to one another when they came up, Kocoum only had a small distance to close to take Thomas under again. This time instead of parting, Kocoum's hands gripped Thomas' slippery sides and when they arose, breathless and gasping for air, those pale lips were stolen again. Thomas gasped between Kocoum's onslaught as he withdrew long enough to inhale before attacking his partner's lips in return. Water trickled down their faces and Thomas reached up to push black strands back from Kocoum's face. For several moments Kocoum and Thomas competed breathlessly for dominance as their hands ventured beneath the water to pull them together.

Kocoum took Thomas' ass in his large hands, squeezing each lobe as the man's lips parted and his eyelids lowered in response. A long, barely audible moan left Thomas and rather than overtaking his mouth again, Kocoum sucked at his lower lip. Kocoum's hands lifted Thomas who was flush against his front, arms wrapped about his shoulders and legs about his waist for support as the copper man held him.

Kocoum fondled the valley between Thomas' spread ass as he devoured those pale pink lips until they swelled and flushed. He sat back on a boulder submerged beneath the water, laying down to draw Thomas on top of him. Looking down at Kocoum whose hair was swept up in the current of the lake Thomas almost mistook him for a divine creature. Thomas' longing eyes moved downward, over Kocoum's pronounced collarbones and his softly defined pecks. This native was a specimen of beauty and Thomas wanted to have him in every intimate way he could imagine. Kocoum watched Thomas study his body until those dark brown eyes finally fell upon the erection between them. Thomas' tongue darted out to wet his lips and Kocoum's breath caught in his chest as the white man moved downward. Lowering himself until his lips met the head of Kocoum's arousal, Thomas' heart leaped as he realized just how large the native man was. His girth easily encompassed the diameter of Thomas' wrist and he struggled to take Kocoum between his lips. Still he lapped at Kocoum, and the man hissed appreciatively beneath his attention. Kocoum's excretion was surprisingly sweet to Thomas and he thought of the native's diet of berries and corn and fish and sometimes venison.

Kocoum struggled to lift his head long enough to watch Thomas properly, so he propped himself up on his elbows. He reached out to touch Thomas' cheek, coaxing the smaller man to look at him and Kocoum beckoned. Thomas obey, crawling back over Kocoum until their faces drew near. Then he moved suddenly, rolling Thomas off of him and turning his body until he lay in the opposite direction. Though Thomas watched him move, he was a little startled to have Kocoum's erection arching toward him again only this time his own cock was before the native's thick lips. Lost in the idea that Kocoum wanted to taste him too, Thomas felt his body melt as lips wrapped around him and he was buried in wet heat.

Thomas tried to take Kocoum into his own mouth, his lips taut around the head of his cock, but he couldn't bring himself to concentrate. He could only manage to lick at Kocoum occasionally and though he noticed it made it difficult for Thomas to pay him attention, Kocoum didn't let up. No, it was better if Thomas didn't get him off just yet though Kocoum savored the sensation as Thomas' moan vibrated around him, his breath hot along his shaft. Kocoum swallowed Thomas whole, sucking and slurping, his hands squeezing the pale man's lobes, boring his hips down into his mouth. Thomas sobbed, his thrusts controlled by Kocoum's grip and he was powerless to find his own release, instead driven by those strong hands.

The fingers of one of Kocoum's hands pressed into the tight ring of Thomas' backside to stretch him. Thomas' shock spilled loudly from his lips at the unexpected intrusion and discomfort. But Kocoum kept drawing Thomas in and out, over and over until the constant pleasure drew him over the edge. Swallowing as Thomas came into him, Kocoum's throat closing around his cock's head forced Thomas to become lost in the ministrations. Kocoum continued to fondle Thomas' entrance as it squeezed tight around his fingers then relaxed in the wake of the man's orgasm. Another finger entered Thomas' weak body and Kocoum stroked inside of him.

“Ohhh,” Thomas breathed, his mouth sighing against the head of Kocoum's painfully hard erection. Stroking something tender and pleasant within him, Thomas felt Kocoum's fingers with a different intensity. He thought being wracked with pleasure only a moment before was the extent of his tolerance but as Kocoum massaged him Thomas grew hard again, tender between the man's thick lips. “Kocoum,” Thomas called softly, removing his wet lips from the man's oozing erection, fluid dribbling down his chin.

Lifting Thomas' lazy hips from him, Kocoum sat up as he watched the lighter man lift himself clumsily, his body seeming slight, fingers splayed upon the rock with his effort. A slender hand reached out to brush Kocoum's hair back from the side of his face, sopping wet, and Thomas' brown eyes looked him over beneath this lazy lids. His own lips were parted, his breath still quick and a little ragged from release as his eyes ventured to Kocoum's thick lips. His tongue licking his upper lip slowly as if to taste some remnant of Thomas' essence, Kocoum moved seductively slow. Thomas made a sound of slight desire thinking that he'd just cum deep in that mouth and Kocoum lost control when he thought he saw the pale man's cock twitch, lewd and insatiable.

Kocoum's nails grazed along the arm which connected them until his fingers could press into Thomas' back to draw them together. His lips claimed Thomas, moving with all of his pent up arousal as he thrust his teasing tongue deep between pale lips. Thomas groaned helplessly, no longer possessing the energy to even adequately kiss Kocoum in return despite his best efforts. Wrapped up in Kocoum's arms, Thomas tried to be useful, his pale fingers venturing deftly between them to touch the man's pillar of a cock. Kocoum's broad hands cupped Thomas' jaw appreciatively, finally parting them to let the smaller man breath. Their chins rest together, Thomas' head tilted back to compensate for his height as Kocoum groaned softly.

Thomas straddled Kocoum's thighs as he shamelessly thrust into them, looking down to watch his own movements. Kocoum leaned back onto his elbows so he could watch Thomas' lazy display as he sought out his own pleasure again. His hands gripping either side of Kocoum's hips, Thomas moved his own forward and back again, over and over to fuck Kocoum's muscular, thick thighs. He'd always admired Kocoum's strong build with an underlying desire to worship the vessel that was his lover, one which he had never admitted to himself until that moment. His eyes trailed upward, mouth watering as his gaze traced up the underside of Kocoum's straining cock, up the man's taut stomach to his defined pecks. Thomas' vision stopped as he reached forward, cupping Kocoum's muscular pecks in his hands which seemed so small against the expanse of the man's chest. His mouth still open as he panted, Thomas' hips sped up between Kocoum's thighs, and he squeezed his hands. All the while Kocoum watched Thomas' every movement, fueling his own desire until in that moment he was so hot he was reaching his limit of composure. When Thomas' lazy brown eyes finally looked up to meet Kocoum's the man leaned forward, sucking wryly on his fingers before leading his hand to Thomas' still thrusting backside. He entered the smaller man whose grip on his chest faltered and he let out a lewd sound of violation.

“Koco—mmm,” Thomas groaned, “I'm gonna,” he breathed, thrusting more frantically with Kocoum's fingers just inside him, wanting them deeper to rub inside him like they'd done earlier.

“No,” Kocoum said, his lips mouthing against Thomas' temple as he sat up, gripping the smaller man's thrusting hips to lift them.

“Ahn,” Thomas said in disappointment, sure Kocoum was going to let him go. But Kocoum got the feeling that Thomas' body couldn't endure another round before he exhausted his endurance, not when he was this delicately weak. Kocoum lifted Thomas' hips so that he was kneeling above his own and then let the man go, looking between them as Thomas followed his gaze. Kocoum took the base of his own erection in his hand, guiding it to stand more upright from where it arched toward his belly. Thomas' eyes widened but he leaned forward, placing his hands on Kocoum's shoulders so his hips could clear the man's cock and allow him access.

“Kocoum,” Thomas moaned worriedly against the man's lips before he wrapped his arms expectantly around dark shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of Kocoum's neck, preparing himself for the man's eminent entrance. Kocoum sighed softly, kissing Thomas' lightly freckled shoulder graciously. Thomas wasn't denying him and Kocoum's built up anxiety subsided as the man actually began to lower himself onto his cock. Relenting against Thomas' tightness despite Kocoum's efforts to prepare him, the smaller man cried loudly into the crook of his neck. Kocoum would have stopped at such a sound, except that it was Thomas who lowered himself and the man did not slow. Kocoum gripped Thomas' backside, squeezing his cheeks in his fists to part and distract the man at least a little from the intrusion. Thomas took that as encouragement and Kocoum was a little startled when he felt teeth dig into his neck.

“Oh,” Kocoum sighed softly, the ache of Thomas biting him mixing with the pleasure of tight heat encompassing his cock. Then Thomas stopped moving backward, having impaled himself as far as his body would allow. Kocoum realized he had only taken in half of his cock but he was grateful for that much pleasure from his love. Thomas tried to raise himself but his legs were trembling so feverishly, his nerves alight as they stretched deep in his core. He couldn't manage the effort and his grip tightened on Kocoum's shoulders. Thomas whimpered into him and Kocoum soothed him with a little cooing sound that registered from deep within his chest. One of his hands leaving Thomas' backside, Kocoum placed it behind him for leverage as he began to rotate his hips very slowly. Drawing out of Thomas, the man sobbed against him, his trembling body barely maintaining composure as his cock leaked between them.

Thomas was lost; it felt good as Kocoum drew out of him, as if his stretched nerves could relax. Then it felt even better as Kocoum buried himself into Thomas again, pushing even deeper to taunt new nerves that hadn't been violated so fantastically yet. The motion repeated as Kocoum slowly pummeled deeper into Thomas, his body wrought with pleasure with each subsequent thrust. Letting his body fall back, Thomas felt Kocoum's thrusts grow quicker and the man lay back onto the rock again, giving both of his hands the freedom to help guide those trembling hips as he thrust into them. Thomas kept his face buried in Kocoum's neck and he found comfort in being so intimately close to Kocoum; it wasn't as if he had the strength to move anyway.

When the grip on Thomas' hips was adjusted to Kocoum's thrusts, the copper man raised his hands to grasp the sides of the paler man's chest, lifting him. Thomas could barely keep his head up as Kocoum raise him up, but their lips managed to meet as they turned their heads. Kocoum kept thrusting, Thomas' erection rubbing between their sweat dampened fronts which granted no space between them. With that element of Kocoum's tender, loving lips against his, Thomas gasped and shuddered and pushed back into Kocoum's quickening thrusts. He propped himself on his elbows which rest over Kocoum's shoulders, his palms planted on the rock above them as long black hair swirled in the inch of water about his fingers. A new strength seemed present within Thomas as his desire for the mounting pleasure in his body overwhelmed his exhaustion. He shoved back into Kocoum's thrusts who groaned into Thomas' mouth, thrusting his tongue between those swollen pink lips in appreciation. His front rubbing against Kocoum's, Thomas began to sob then moan and shudder as his own cock was pleasured between their bodies, against the sculpted muscles of Kocoum's rippling stomach.

Kocoum thrust almost violently into him then, Thomas' body jolting as he hit deep within the smaller man with a wet fluidity. Stroked inside and out, Thomas came with a loud cry, his mouth agape against Kocoum's cheek. Though he released less fluid, Thomas' pleasure seemed to continue endlessly in that moment as Kocoum continued to fuck him and his flaccid cock was encompassed in the friction between them. Thomas tightened around Kocoum and the pleasure he had began to mount for his own release was shoved far over his threshold of need. He came into Thomas with such force that Kocoum's vision blacked out, the tightness about his pleasured cock blinding his senses so he felt only the sheer ecstasy of his release. Thrusting once, twice more as he shrunk, Kocoum began to recognize the long groan of his own voice. He let himself slide out of Thomas who lay collapsed against him, hot breath spilling across Kocoum's chest.

In his subsiding pleasure, Thomas was lulled into a sleepy state and hardly noticed as fluid trickled between his thighs. He wiggled to the side enough to slide off of Kocoum's front and lazily rinsed the man's torso with water cupped in his palm where he'd left a mess. Kocoum regained his sense of consciousness as he watched Thomas, chuckling softly and drawing those brown eyes to meet his black ones. Kocoum's lips awaited Thomas' languid approach as he leaned upward, pressing his mouth sloppily to the native's. Thomas sighed, brushing back some of Kocoum's wet black locks from the side of his face to stare gently at the copper man's lovely, exhausted face. Kocoum smiled sweetly at him and Thomas kissed him once more before laying his cheek on top of the man's broad chest. Dozing off almost instantaneously, Kocoum and Thomas lay in the warming heat of the midday sun. Their arms were entwined as if they were one being, souls linked as a gentle breeze whispered lullabies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they lived sexily ever after.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Let me know if you think there's something you'd have rather happened in the story or if you feel it's missing something. I'd love to hear your opinion. : )


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